


Energy

by piccMu51c



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piccMu51c/pseuds/piccMu51c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bo’s volatile darkness glimpsed at the end of season two lacks impulse control, but will the good intentions of her true nature shine through? Speculative story from Lauren’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Energy

A succubus is a beautiful creature. It is sometimes easy to forget that behind the smooth, lyrical voice and warm skin is raw power, a pure intensity of being. At least, such was the case with this one, the heir of the Blood King.

Lauren sat quietly on the overstuffed couch as Bo paced restlessly across the room, watching her turn on her heels on toss her long hair over one shoulder. She moved with an unchecked preternatural grace, softening her usual brash demeanor, commanding attention. Her presence was a near tangible element in the air around them, an irresistible pull that made the fine hair on the back of Lauren’s neck rise.

It was an unconscious mechanism of her biology, perhaps a response to stress. Lauren had felt it before. Bo’s tension was manifested in the way the that the room was charged with her energy, an intoxicating mix of old magic and chemical triggers that calmed as well as excited her prey. She looked every bit the huntress, a predator wrapped in black leather.

It was difficult to be around her when she was like this. Lauren knew that with even one touch, she would be hopelessly lost to the succubus, caught within her thrall, her mind lost.

It was like she had reverted back to the untamed, lost girl Dyson and Hale picked up and brought in months ago, with abilities she couldn’t hope to control without help. But this Bo was dangerously overconfident, no longer unsure or confused by her own nature. She simply didn’t bother with acting ‘normal.’ Lauren first noticed the effect after the defeat of the Garuda. Now it happened often.

Bo and Kenzi had returned to business as usual in the past weeks while the Light government scrambled to right itself for the second time in as many years. The political landscape was changing rapidly after Aife’s attack and the death of two Ashes. It things continued as they were, it wouldn’t be long before the Ash and the Council took orders from Bo, not the other way around.

Something was wrong.

“What going on, Bo? Why did you ask me to come here?” she spoke softly, curious as to what had Bo nervous enough to call her, a human, when she obviously needed another kind of…support.

Bo had certain needs, which she alone couldn’t sustain, no matter what they may feel, or may have felt, for each other. She took no small pleasure in the knowledge that no fae had yet been able to either.

“I saw the Black Thorn today.” She stopped in front of Lauren, who visibly stiffened.

“So the Council wants to crown a new Ash,” She couldn’t meet Bo’s eyes, feeling the weight of the amulet around her neck like that of a lead boulder rather than the intricately designed silver charm. It might as well have been a brand. The new lord would also be her third master.

“I’ve found a way for you to be free, Lauren, the perfect opportunity.” Something about her tone was wrong, dripping power.

“What do you mean?” She had a bad feeling about this, those dark eyes, that smile, “Bo, what did you do?”

“I’m the Stag.”

Neither said anything for a full minute while Lauren turned the words over in her mind, letting them echo and still not believing what she heard. “That’s not possible. You’re not Light Fae. You’re not even a woodland species.”

Bo just smiled sweetly. “Says who? I’ve been camping.”

“That’s not funny,” Lauren snapped.

The smile faded, and Bo took the seat next to her, suddenly withdrawn. “You’re right, it’s not. You know what else isn’t funny? The way they jumped at the chance,” She should have been angry, shouting and hurt. Instead, she was perfectly calm, with all the cold beauty of an ice sculpture.

“They hold on to their precious, ‘balanced’ dichotomy of light and dark, and I’m some dangerous anomaly. After everything I’ve done, I’m a threat.”

Lauren listened in silence, wondering what brought this on, and how she planned to survive, unarmed, against three of the most influential and deadly of the Light fae. She was too close, it was becoming hard to concentrate, and this was too important.

“I won’t pick a side,” There was so much force in that statement, it made Lauren cringe to hear it. “So I volunteered. No prisoners have to die. The morning of the hunt, when all eyes and arrows are on me, you can escape the Ash’s compound.”

Shaking her head slowly, blonde curls tumbling about her face, Lauren turned towards the succubus, every nerve ending aware of her proximity. “You have a greater destiny than this, Bo.”

“Then they can’t kill me,” she said quickly, obviously having rehearsed several possible arguments, “I’ll be fighting for my freedom as much as yours, and if it gives you the chance you need, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You can’t take that chance.”

“I can. I will. For you,” Bo’s single-minded determination towards an end was typical, but this was different. She knew that Bo cared, maybe even loved her at one time, but she wasn’t talking like someone fighting for love. Her voice was too hard, too cold. This was about power.

Then again, maybe this was Bo’s way of fulfilling her role, upsetting the balance, doing away with old traditions, and ultimately the dissolving split between the Light and the Dark. However, coup d'état? It wasn’t like her at all.

“What does Kenzi think about this?”

“She won’t even look at me.”

It felt like electricity was surging over her skin in snaps and static, and Bo was the conduit. Her lungs burned and Lauren had to make an effort to breathe normally. Surely, she wasn’t the only one struggling against it. But Bo’s eyes were their normal, dark, velvet brown.

She was in complete control, Lauren realized. She couldn’t decide if she were impressed or terrified.

With that thought, Lauren took Bo’s hands into her own, and suddenly she could breathe again. Bo’s skin was warm, but Lauren didn’t feel the spread of pure sensual heat that accompanied a succubus’s uninhibited touch. Bo was holding herself back. Finally, it was like clean air rushed back into the room as soon as she touched her.

Lauren took that as a good sign and proceeded to shamelessly use the only bargaining chip she had that might change Bo’s mind, that might save her - herself.

“And if you fail? They’ll hunt me down. Easily. There’s nowhere to go that they won’t find me.” The light fae elders would never let her leave and live. Part of her wanted to try, if only to have one last taste of freedom before she died. Have a dozen times, she had found herself packed and ready to flee. But for whatever reason she held back, and she hated herself for it.

“What if I don’t want to leave my work, this world…you…”

“All the more reason for me to live. I can do this. Trust me.” Blue flashed around dilated pupils, the light behind them a glimpse of eternity.

Leaning forward, she disentangled her hands from Lauren’s so that she could reach up to cradle her face between them. “I only ask one thing. The night before, come to me. Wherever they’re holding me, one last time.”

Bo’s thumbs swept away tears. Lauren hadn’t even realized she had started to cry.

“Please, Lauren.” She whispered her name like a prayer.

“Okay.”

This time, her smile was genuine, and her kiss tasted like ambrosia.


	2. Skeleton Song

It was late evening when she woke, the rising moon shinning through the open second floor window to bathe the bed in soft light, like liquid silver pooling on the dark sheets. Lauren moved to sit against the headboard, trying to remember the last time she was able to nap through an afternoon as she considered the standing columns of the four-poster bed frame towering over her. She was alone. The shack was silent except for the noise of a television downstairs.

Being welcomed back into Bo's bed had felt like a homecoming. After their weighted conversation earlier, an initially chaste kiss quickly progressed into a holistic embrace, all searching hands and anxious tugging, anything for a more meaningful contact.

Lauren wasn't in a position to refuse, overwhelmed by Bo's decision to insert herself into the hunt for the new Ash, by the hope of freedom, by Bo herself. Next thing she knew, she was being laid back against crimson pillows with no recollection of ever moving from the couch.

Bo loomed over her, stretching slowly, covering her. Her skin was deliciously warm as her body pressed into Lauren. She was surrounded by silken hair and gentle hands.

But the suffocating presence was still there, an invisible force, a cathode ray that burned into Lauren an impression of powerful need, darker and stronger than she ever remembered. She could feel it in the too tight grip, could practically taste it on Bo's lips.

"Wait," she breathed. It was like pulling away from a magnet. Bo stopped, but didn't move.

Her eyes were a steady, dark brown. Whatever this new intensity, she was in control, for the moment. Lauren traced the perfect arch of her eyebrow with a fingertip. "I can't," Her voice broke, making her sound less than certain.

Mostly, she was scared. This new power was alarming. It was ironic, how Bo was the strongest person she knew, where she felt the safest in the world, and yet every time that they were together like this there was always an element of fear. First, fear for Bo's life, then her own, and now for both of their probably short futures.

At least it had been safe to be with Nadia, even if Nadia hadn't been safe. Tears returned in earnest. She wasn't ready to lose someone again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Bo rolled off and gathered Lauren to her, the spell broken. Suddenly, all vestiges of the supernatural were gone, and Bo was herself again.

She whispered and soothed for a long time, trailing her fingers through blonde hair. She had sounded relieved.

Kenzi was downstairs, watching a man in a pith helmet talk about elephants, or something. Lauren watched her scratch at her right arm and hiss in frustrated pain.

"I wish you would let me help you," she said by way of announcing herself from the staircase, fully expecting an angry response in light of Bo's decision. Theirs was an intimate friendship, a beautiful connection of independent personalities. Kenzi must have been just as shocked and upset, if not more. She didn't have the personal stake that Lauren did, that tantalizing chance at full agency, autonomy, freedom.

Electric blue highlights flashed in the light of the television as Kenzi turned, startled. "Hey doc," she resumed watching her show. "I told you before, it's nothing. Bo's at the Dál, bee-tee-dubs."

"You're not going?"

"Mama Bear's hunting for a different sort of spirits, if you know what I mean," she said bitingly.

"I see," Lauren smiled even though she couldn't see it. She supposed that went about as well as she could expect, "Good night, Kenzi." She received a distracted wave from over the back of the couch.

  


"You can't be serious!"

Dyson ran a hand over his face, "It's definitely a succubus kill, Trick."

The Dál was unusually crowded. The heads of several of the old families were present, as well as the Black Thorn. That only meant one thing: the Council had convened. Before the week was out, he would swear allegiance to a new lord. He hated politics. Too much noise, too little space, and not enough alcohol.

Hale straightened his hat, "Listen, no one wants it to be true. Not sayin' that it is Bo," he added quickly at the look Trick shot him across the bar, "We'll cover it up as long as we can."

  


Lauren decided against returning to the Ash's compound, knowing she would only obsess over the situation. She needed to talk to Trick, desperately. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she zipped her leather jacket and turned toward the Dál Riata. Of all the fae, surely her grandfather could talk Bo out of going through with the hunt, or if not, knew of some way to help her.

She passed Dyson and Hale at the door. They both nodded politely and went on their way, which wasn't so strange, but she noticed that they were both still dressed for work despite the time. A bronze badge flashed visibly from Dyson's hip, and she could make out the bulge of a holster underneath Hale's coat. She watched the pair curiously until they turned a corner, snapping back to herself when she was jostled out of the way by the door swinging open. The exiting fae couple was unapologetic.

Right. She had bigger issues to deal with than Dyson, whatever the case.

The back entrance was her best bet, as Bo was somewhere inside. If she were really lucky, the succubus had already left with her pick of strange fae lover, and Lauren could seek out the barkeep's advice privately, without being intercepted. She couldn't honestly bring herself to hope for it. Jealousy already burned in her stomach at the thought. Knowing that these sorts of rendezvous were vital for a succubus' health and wellness didn't help.

She wasn't alone in the alley behind the building. The outline of two figures in the dark was startling, until she recognized one of them. Bo wasted no time, throwing a young man into the wall near the back door, the impact accompanied by the audible cracking of brick. Lauren winced at such a casual display of superhuman strength. The poor guy would have horrible bruises tomorrow.

Bo leaned in, picking him up and holding him off the ground with one hand, and he moaned as she began to pull from his life essence, drawing sustenance out of desire. Lauren didn't want to watch this.

"That's enough," she heard him struggle to find his voice before Bo's mouth descended a second time. Ducking around the corner, she started back toward the street, feeling sick.

"Stop," the voice was weaker. She couldn't determine whether the next rasp she heard was a gasp of pleasure or a death rattle.

"Bo?" she called softly, turning back. Even from a distance, Lauren could clearly make out the stream of energy, radiating blue wisps of the soul effortlessly called from their living vessel. Bo inhaled, literally stealing his last breath.

"Bo, stop!" Lauren started running, until she was close enough to see the fear in his eyes, even as he reached for Bo. He couldn't help himself.

The body hit the cement with the sick thud of dead weight. Lauren dropped to her knees, frantically pushing away the man's shirt collar to search for a pulse. Nothing. She caught herself preparing for CPR, realizing that it would be no use. "Bo, what have you done?"

She heard the creak of skintight leather as Bo lowered herself next to her. When she looked at her, Lauren was surprised to meet eyes so dark as to appear almost black, without a hint of ethereal blue light. Completely sated, she looked like a goddess, practically glowing in the dim alley. Power emanated from her in waves that made Lauren's heart race.

Without speaking, Bo's fingers closed around one of her wrists, pulling her away, and Lauren felt the surge of heat, a flash of longing so raw it hurt. At the same time, she raised her victim into an upright position by a fistful of hair. Lauren looked on as she bent, breathing life back into him, forcing it through his lungs, rearing back as he coughed and shook with pain, scrambling as far away as the wall allowed.

Before she could examine him, Lauren was being tugged to her feet and led through the back entrance, unable to tear her eyes away from the crumpled heap of a person until Bo closed the door. There was an extra sway to her hips as she rode out the high, her hunger abated. The man outside was fae, young and healthy. Bo shouldn't have been able to drain him, shouldn't have come anywhere close to killing him with only a kiss.

Awe and fear added to the already rapid beat of Lauren heart, but Bo only smiled.

"You look like you could use a drink. Come on."

They were met with open stares in the main room. Lauren recognized several prominent Light fae ambassadors, members of the old families, an Elder nursing his whiskey in a corner, and two Council members, all tracking Bo's progress to the bar.

She followed, feeling small, taking the seat Bo pulled out for her. Trick set down two glasses without having to ask for their order. His smile was forced, whether from dealing with the crowd, or something else, she didn't know.

"I hope your night hasn't been half as terrible as mine," he said, straightening his green vest. Lauren didn't bother to answer, sipping her drink, hoping it would help her shaking hands. Bo surveyed the room silently. Trick looked back and forth between them, and she thought that he didn't look very surprised. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Bo said cheerily, "Suffice to say, it's going to be an eventful weekend. Who's that?" Lauren followed the direction of her gaze.

The Black Thorn offered Bo a mock salute from the table he shared with a woman Lauren had never met, a rare occurrence. As the Ash's personal physician, she had treated most high-class Light officials at least once over the years.

She looked to be in her late thirties or so, but looks were deceiving among these people. Raven black hair tumbled to her shoulders in a mass of curls, and quicksilver eyes flashed over the rim of a wine glass. An old-fashioned cape, lined with fur, dyed black, draped over her shoulders, the ends clasped together with an odd, ornamental pin in the shape of unfurled silver wings.

"A contender for the Ash's title, and a very powerful one," Trick answered, frowning, "I assumed she was killed long ago."

Bo hummed, not outwardly concerned, "So, what is she? Got a name?"

"She's very old, and no one remembers her true name. Both sides call her, 'Valkyrie,' the only Light necromancer to ever exist. I haven't seen her since the fourteenth century, or rather, since the end of the great war."

"Is that why she is Light fae? She only uses her abilities during war?" Lauren spoke up, her curiosity getting the better of her, "What happened when you wrote the Laws? When the war ended?"

Trick shrugged. "Like I said, I never saw her again until she walked in tonight."

"So, a freaking Norse goddess suddenly shows up after centuries and wants to be the Ash?" For the first time, Lauren saw Bo's confidence waver, but only slightly.

He shook his head. "Not a goddess. Another fae that deals with fate. You've met her sister."

Bo tilted her head to one side, confused, "Who?"

"The Norn."


	3. This Hollow World

"Norn, like, the sick hippie lady that ruins people's lives, that Norn?"

Lauren could see the tension in Bo's shoulders, and marveled at the biting snark in her voice when there was no real humor.

"Yes," Trick ran a hand over his face, as if he found the whole conversation uncomfortable, "One of three sisters. The third and eldest, however, died when I was very young, murdered before I can remember."

"So, if the caped crusader here," Bo gestured over her shoulder, "is a necromancer, couldn't she have raised her own sister? Is she so different from a Hsien?"

He shook his head. "Light fae, remember? The Valkyrie raises her victims and shapes them into heroes for battle only. She is a herald of victory during war."

"Then she shouldn't be here. I prevented another war."

"And there are always consequences, I think we can all agree. There's also a long-standing rumor that the Valkyrie herself was the murderer." Bo's only response was a quirk of her eyebrow, but Lauren shivered, suppressing the urge to cast a nervous glance around the room.

"This would probably be best continued in private," she said softly, "There are more than a few individuals present with the ability to overhear."

"Rain check. I've got somewhere to be." Bo took a last drink, stood, and straightened her coat.

Trick smiled at her in spite of the worry that formed lines at the corners of his eyes. When she was gone, he turned to Lauren with a stern expression. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he pushed another glass towards her.

"You want to tell me what's really going on?"

Hours later, closed, locked, and dark, the Dál made for a wholly different setting than the warm, inviting pub prior to, or significantly later than, the early morning. Lauren stood with her hands in her pockets, silent, letting Trick pace around his study. Judging by the sweat beading on his furrowed brow, she wondered what he wasn't telling her about the Valkyrie, or perhaps another even more powerful rival.

"Is there anything you can do to help us?" She felt terrible even to ask.

He followed the direction of her gaze to a bundle on the desk, the scarred, faded leather concealing the terrible tools that had implemented a great dimorphism in fae ideology, created from nothing an almost civilized society, and ultimately killed his beloved wife. Even now, he could feel her spirit, her love, his salvation that had been purposed for their granddaughter, surging through his veins.

There are always consequences. Whenever he looked at Bo, he was reminded of her sacrifice. Every day since the battle against the Garuda, there was a slightly more elegant cant to her posture, a natural intensity of presence, a sinful grace that reminded him painfully of her mother. Yet that encroaching darkness was also the reason he was still alive.

"No. I've already used my blood to help Bo against Aife, and that ended badly. Honestly, I thought that encounter was the worst of our problems at the time," He sank into a chair and held his head in his hands. Lauren's heart ached for him, for his family. He looked so broken.

"Listen," Trick spoke to the floor, "I'll scour my collection and try to find whatever I can. I don't know what game the Black Thorn is playing, nor Bo for that matter." A long moment passed before either moved.

The barkeep took a deep breath, gathering himself. Rising to stand before her, he grasped her arms and pulled her down so that he could look her straight in the eyes. In his, she found the quiet strength she always associated with Trick, along with the resolve she recognized in Bo, and knew that she was facing the Blood King as well as her friend.

"Lauren, I don't know what's going to happen. But if the opportunity does present itself and you can get out of all this, I encourage you to take it. Run fast and hard and don't look back."

  


Lauren didn't see Bo again until late the next afternoon. She waltzed though the glass doors of the clinic as if she owned the place. Security didn't stop her to ask for identification, and the guard barely glanced her way, which was strange. It usually took a minimum of two friskings before Bo was allowed inside.

Lauren stayed where she was behind a compound microscope, an assortment of vials and stacks of notes spread around her on the desk.

"Such a serious face, Dr. Lewis," Bo pretended to pout, perching atop one of the examining tables. Her voice dropped an octave, eyes dark, beautiful, wild, and not the least bit human. "What are you working on?" Lauren felt her lips tipping into a half smile in spite of herself. Bo's not-quite-innocent curiosity was almost normal, like any other visit.

"I'm reworking the antidote I made for Sabine," she kept her eyes on the syringe in her hand as she filled it with a sample of Bo's blood. The sobering truth was that she had to occupy her time somehow in the lull before the Stag Hunt. If indeed these were to be her last days among the fae, she had no qualms in using their own resources against them to ensure Bo's survival. "Just in case," she added softly.

Bo didn't respond immediately, silently considering the doctor from across the room. The weight of her gaze made Lauren uncomfortable, nervous even. She continued to ramble. "That is, of course, assuming that the same poison will be used to coat the arrowheads. Sabine was also extreme lucky that Hamish was there to manipulate the trajectory of Lachlan's arrow away from her heart, a luxury you won't have."

She heard Bo drop down from the table, was aware of her approach in the periphery of her field of vision. "You've always helped me," she breathed close to Lauren's ear, something close to awe in her voice as she reached up to tuck a stray blonde curl behind it. Pilomotor reflex was instantaneous, leaving the doctor chilled at the same time a familiar heat spread through her.

"Yes," she said, feeling her capacity for coherent thought slipping in direct correlation to Bo's proximity. Now she was running the tips of her fingers very lightly over Lauren's bare arm, from the band of her watch to the crease of her elbow where she had rolled up the sleeves of her lab coat and back. Her mind grew hazy, and she knew that Bo was channeling her power of influence even in this small touch.

"Just because we were successful then," Lauren tried to pick up her previous train of thought as she felt herself being turned around to face the succubus with a gentle tug, "doesn't change what this is, Bo."

Her smile was tight, almost angry. "And what is that?"

Bo may think herself indestructible, but Lauren was determined not to sugar coat reality. Not when the stakes were so high. "A traditional, socially acceptable means of punishment. A death sentence."

Bo went perfectly still, like some Greek statue, her hands gripping the collar of Lauren's coat. "You're just like Kenzi," she spoke in a low voice, the sound like silk moving over Lauren's skin. "You think I don't stand a chance." Bo stepped closer, further into her personal space.

"I've survived their assassins," Fierce blue eyes bore into her, and Lauren struggled to breathe normally against the onslaught of magic filling the room.

"I've beaten their stupid political system over and over," Bo bowed her head, brushing her lips against Lauren's neck, felt the racing pulse there, "every day since I was dumped into this crazy world."

Trying to decide whether or not she was being threatened, Lauren's eyes slipped shut, her breath breaking on a sigh as Bo's hands moved lower, pushing back the lab coat to settle on her hips, pulling her closer. Finding her voice proved difficult.

"I think that if anyone has a chance, it's you."

The silence that followed was heavy, a suspension of charged energy hanging between them, barely contained. Lauren saw the strain in Bo's expression, looking for all the world as if she were counting to ten in her head. The seconds stretched as her equilibrium was slowly restored. Pupils dilated against fading blue, she focused on the syringe that lay forgotten on the desk.

"When you're done, it's really important that you get rid of any blood of mine that you have from when I was getting treatments or from the Garuda. That stuff's dangerous, apparently."

That made Lauren pause. "Dangerous?"

"Yeah," Bo leaned away and stepped back, running a hand through her hair in a nervous tic, "My blood binds people against their will. With you gone, there's no telling what someone could use it for…" When her eyes met Lauren's there was a shy regard and genuine sorrow that reminded her of the succubus when she first met her, a vulnerability she hadn't seen in weeks.

"After what happened with Ryan, and then the Garuda, I thought of all the times I came to you when I was hurt, and I didn't even know you were in danger." Her slight smile was self-deprecating, "You know, any more than normal around me. I'm sorry."

"Bo-" Lauren reached for one of Bo's hands, "You didn't know."

"I couldn't bear it if Kenzi or you or Dyson were bound to me because you helped me after a fight. I'm tired of hurting people to survive. I thought those days were over."

"We're not being influenced like that, Bo," Lauren said, "Those relationships are real." She brought Bo's hand up to her face to kiss the palm. "This is real."

Taking a deep breath, Bo finally relaxed enough so the surging current of heat that had overtaken Lauren's senses moments ago receded into gentle waves, only a slight impression in the back of her mind, not completely gone.

"Let's go for a walk. I think all this," Bo gestured absently at the gleaming steal surfaces, freshly buffered floors, and white walls around them, "sterility is getting to me."

  


Kenzi emerged out of the cloud of steam that was currently the bathroom after a glorious twenty-minute shower. The smell of fresh brewed coffee greeted her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Bo? You're back early," She mumbled around the towel she was using to dry her hair, "Trust me, you're going to need something a lot stronger than a good mocha if you're trying to apologize for signing up to play hide-and-seek with-"

"Guess again."

Kenzi froze. She knew that voice. Pulling the towel from her face, she stared openly at the woman currently occupying a stool at the island counter.

"I have a message for my daughter."


	4. Stranger

The enclosed courtyard on the west side of the Ash’s compound lacked the finely shaped topiary and carefully laid flowerbeds one might expect of a typical government building.  The trees were never cut back; beech, linden, and oak free to spread and reach their full height, creating a loose canopy above and shaded pathways below.  Arrowwood littered the ground, fed by dark soils imported from the rich loess deposits of Eastern European lowlands.  It was less like stepping into a garden than several acres of temperate forest. 

Inside, Lauren had been restless and edgy all day.  But out here, the evening sun melted away her tension.  She couldn’t count the number of times she had slipped away at the end of a long shift to walk among these trees over the past five years.  It was a place of unmitigated peace.  Well, except for the occasional run-in with a hostile caretaker pixie.    

She turned to Bo, hoping that by bringing her here the succubus might feel similarly, and caught her breath. 

Bo’s eyes were closed, face uplifted to the warmth of the setting sun.  Her skin fairly glowed in the golden light.  She was smiling, and she was beautiful.  Why couldn’t there have been more moments like this, she thought sadly, turning toward the path and walking at a leisurely pace.  It wasn’t long before she heard Bo following. 

“How much would you bet that just yesterday I wouldn’t have been allowed here?” she asked absently, taking in her surroundings.  She turned in a circle as she walked, craning her neck back to watch the fading light filter through the branches above them.   

“You think that security is being lax because you’re the sacrificial stag?” 

“I know it,” her voice was soft and low.  Facing forward, she took the lead.  Lauren noticed the fluidity of Bo’s movements, that unnerving grace fit for any Parisian runway, lithe and elegant.  When she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes were like dark velvet, dilated black. 

Lauren was reminded of last night’s display behind the Dál.  She shivered, beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all.

“Earlier today I got all the way to the treasury door before anyone stopped me,” her lips tipped into a playful grin, “And even then, no strip search.”

“You almost sound disappointed,” Lauren said, laughing.   

“Why do you think I came to your office?” 

Lauren knew better than to blush, but felt the heat rise in her face and neck all the same. 

  _…all the way to the treasury door…_

She stopped in her tracks.  “Bo, please tell me you didn’t agree to do this so that you could steal something.”

Bo’s footsteps ground to a halt on the graveled path.  “Of course not,” her voice was suddenly hard.  Her shoulders slumped as she faced Lauren.  “I’m doing this for the people I care about.

“And according to my sources, there’s an artifact here somewhere that can cure Kenzi.” 

 

“Hey, lady!  You can’t go back there.”

“Oh please.”

Dyson looked up from his computer monitor to see one of his coworkers barring Kenzi’s path from the reception area to the precinct’s main room.  Openly smirking, he turned back to clicking through his email while an explosive tirade ensued that made him wish he could understand Russian.  The guard never stood a chance. 

Then the screen went blank.  _What the hell?_

Kenzi leaned over the desk twirling an hdmi cable.  “We’ve got problems.”       

 

The temperature had dropped while they meandered along the various paths, caught between night and day.  The sun slipped just below the horizon, casting the clouds in streaks of sapphire and cobalt as evening fell.  Ahead, an enormous white ash stood alone. 

Lauren slowed to a halt while Bo continued forward, in awe of the massive tree.  Easily nine meters in diameter, the trunk was free of moss; it’s thick, vertically fissured bark indicative of a very old specimen.  A domed crown of branches towered over them and obscured the sky. 

Bo finally broke the silence.  “Could this be-?”

“Yggdrasil.  The Ash,” a lilting accent came from somewhere among the surrounding forestry, unseen.  “Or rather, a small graft from it.”   

Bo swung around to meet the stranger, drawing a knife as she did so.  “Who’s there?”

The Valkyrie emerged from between the trees, her stride even and purposeful, pale silver gaze on the great tree.  “Some consider this is a sacred place.  You shouldn’t be here, considering your…political alignment,” she said in a low voice, its timbre rough with age, and its tone as smooth as an expensive liqueur, sending a chill down Lauren’s spine. 

Bo positioned herself solidly between Lauren and the ancient fae.  “I’ve never cared much about what other people think.” 

She didn’t react, keeping a careful distance for which Lauren was grateful.  Her oval face was almost featureless, a cool facade of perfect indifference.  “A commonality between us.” 

Bo gave a short laugh.  “Be sure to use that in your campaign speech.”  

“I’ll hardly need one,” she dismissed the taunt easily, straightening a smartly cut blazer over her shoulders.  Even in modern dress, she was no less intimidating.  “For someone so young, you seem to attract a lot of attention.” 

“My reputation precedes me,” Bo’s stance was defensive, but Lauren thought she sounded as confident and daring as ever, which usually made for a violent confrontation.  She questioned the wisdom of prolonging this encounter.

 “Indeed, it does,” quicksilver eyes focused over Bo’s shoulder briefly to consider Lauren, who felt like her heart was racing dangerously towards myocardial infarction.  

“So what do you want?” 

The other woman glided forward, further into the clearing.  “This situation is unprecedented, and I find myself curious as to why exactly you volunteered.” 

Bo hesitated before she sheathed the knife at her hip and crossed her arms.  “The council seems to think that I’m a problem worth getting rid of, and I needed a way to get the Light off my back.  I have the right to remain neutral, and so should everyone else.” 

It was half-true at best, but for Lauren’s sake, Bo wasn’t going to be more forthcoming.  The Valkyrie continued to pace, her footsteps eerily silent against fallen leaves.  The slightest hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth. 

“Even if you live, it’s not as if the government will have somehow lost all legitimacy and collapse in on itself.  If you wanted to prove something, or enact some sort of change, this isn’t the way to go about it.”   

“It’s a start.  There are fae besides me who want to live outside the divide.  And others who have died because of it.”

“Like Aife?”

Bo visibly tensed. 

“Many more fae died during the war, the blood cost to our people greater than I can expect you to appreciate.  We went from scattered tribes killing each other in droves to a society that has stood for centuries,” the serene, unearthly tone of her voice never changed.  “The Blood King’s laws maintain peace.” 

 

Before Bo could further insult a participant in said war, Lauren decided to try to neutralize the situation.  She had a million questions, but had so far held her peace.  She knew her place in this world, had learned it the hard way - in a dungeon cell.  “Let’s go,” she whispered softly, stepping forward to tug gently at Bo’s elbow and earning a backwards glance. 

“No.  The system is broken.”  Shrugging off Lauren’s hand, Bo took two steps forward into the Valkyrie’s space, drawing herself up to her full height.  “I once met a vampire whose mother was Light.  She had had an affair.  His family gave him over to the Dark at birth. 

“Imagine the reaction to a necromancer,” her eyes were dark and her smile was terrible.  “You consider yourself a hero for the Light, but you wouldn’t have stood a chance today.”   

In that moment, Lauren was sure that the Valkyrie was going to kill Bo right there if front of the sacred tree.     

“If I’ve learned anything,” Bo continued, “it’s that the Dark enjoy being narcissistic monsters, and the Light have to try really hard to justify to themselves that they’re not exactly the same.”

The movement was too quick for Lauren to follow, but she heard an audible crack that she recognized.  The succubus was on her knees before the Valkyrie who held one of Bo’s arms in a viselike grip at an awkward angle.  It was broken.   

“Take another step and she loses the arm,” she commanded when Lauren rushed forward.  Bo didn’t cry out or struggle in her pain, but her eyes burned bright, evidencing her instinctual response to heal herself.   

“Monsters.  It that truly how you see us all?”  The old fae jerked Bo to her feet, twisting the broken arm.  

Bo was unsuccessfully trying to keep a straight face.  “Go to hell.”   

“Or,” the Valkyrie pulled her close, bringing their faces together, “Is that how you see yourself?” 

Of all the things that could have happened, Lauren honestly never expected her to kiss Bo. 

“No!”  Now Bo fought in earnest against the other woman, as well as her own nature.  She turned away as much as the hold would allow, grasping at her rapidly vanishing control. 

A cruel smile graced the Valkyrie’s features, and she gave another brutal wrench.  Bo inhaled sharply in pain, and her body took over in response to the proximity of a chi source without her conscious consent. 

Lauren didn’t move, rapidly devising and rejecting plans to somehow defend Bo as she was essentially force-fed against her will.  It was all so wrong.  Knowing she was powerless against an ancient seemed a small thing against the sight of Bo’s tears tracking down her face when she finally tore her mouth away. 

“You have no idea of what I’ve sacrificed to ‘stand a chance.’”  With that, the Valkyrie unceremoniously cast her aside. 

Lauren watched her toss her black hair over one shoulder, a surge of unadulterated hate sweeping through her before turning toward the crumpled heap that was Bo.  She was shaking, trying to scrape herself back together.  When their eyes met, hers were empty and lost. 

 “Remember, you’re more valuable to me dead than alive, little succubus.”   


	5. You Could Stay

“Are you okay?” 

Dyson’s hand on her shoulder startled Lauren from her absent stare.  Her first impulse was to shove him away, but then she thought better of it.  

“Oh that’s just great.  Some bitch chi-raped my best friend, and you want to know if _she’s_ okay?”  Indignant, Kenzi stamped her boot against the aged hardwood floor.  Lauren met her gaze evenly, accepting the rage she suspected had been quietly building for a while now.  If eyeliner could kill… 

 “You just stood there!” 

Lauren had no argument with which to defend herself, and her fellow human didn’t intend to wait for one anyway, cursing as she moved between the kitchen island and the tattered, overstuffed couch towards the stairs.  Lauren was tempted to leave now that she knew Bo was safe, but Dyson blocked her retreat, planting himself between her and the door. 

“I couldn’t help her, Dyson,” her voice sounded strained to her own ears, full of fear and shame.

“There was nothing you could do.”  He wouldn’t be so damned calm about it if he were the one who had to watch someone hurt Bo, and then use her pain to force a feed. 

The sound of raised voices filtered down from the second floor, not so loud that Lauren could make out what was said, but Dyson’s expression was enough indication.  Physically Bo was fine, she mentally reassured herself, and if anyone could handle Bo in a fit of anger and self-hatred, it was Kenzi.  The petite girl could take whatever Bo gave and sling it right back at her, make her feel normal. 

Lauren understood the maneuver that had taken place in the Ash’s courtyard.  The Valkyrie had proved Bo’s unique gifts an ineffective defense, and demonstrated that the strength of an ancient could even use them against her.  In that moment, she had stripped Bo of her choice, reversing the power dynamic of a situation in which the succubus was naturally the aggressor and normally in direct, complete control. 

Knowing Bo, whose constant battle was for control – of her abilities, her allegiances, her identity - it seemed beyond power games to Lauren, perhaps because she struggled toward similar ends.  No, it was violation, plain and simple. 

 “You would have fought the Valkyrie, regardless.”  

“You’re right, I would have.”  With a heavy sigh, Dyson propped his elbows on the counter.  “And neither of us would have made it out of the compound alive, much less gotten Bo back home, safe in her bed.”  Lauren wondered how much that cost his pride to admit.  “She’ll be fine.  And Kenzi, she just-”

Somewhere upstairs a door slammed on its hinges.  So much for the in her bed part.

“Yeah, I get it.”  And she did.  Lauren understood feeling helpless.

They left it at that, settling into a chilly, familiar distance, tension edged with jealousy and chronic resentment between them.  Lauren made coffee while Dyson filled her in on Kenzi’s run-in with Aoife.  Any other day, she would have been shocked speechless to learn that Bo’s mother was somehow still alive, much less reaching out to her daughter after what had happened between them.  Instead, she felt drained, the last dregs of adrenaline long gone, her tired mind more focused on the groaning sound the house’s outdated plumbing made as water was piped to the shower upstairs.      

“It makes you wonder what else we don’t know about their lives,” she said softly, grateful for the warmth seeping through the ceramic barrier of her coffee mug and into her hands. 

“I was kind of relieved.”  Dyson looked about as invested in the conversation as Lauren, more focused on the movements of their friends on the second floor.  She envied his superior hearing. 

“This means that a homicide case I’ve been trying to keep out of your office all week can finally move forward.  I knew it wasn’t Bo.” 

Lauren thought of the fae behind the Dál, and wasn’t so sure.  A succubus victim complicated matters.  “I still think you should be discreet in your investigation, for Bo’s sake.  If the Council caught wind that Aoife still lives, Bo could be in a lot more trouble than she is already.”

Dyson raised an eyebrow.  “And the Hunt might be postponed for the Council’s protection, giving us more time to prepare.  Or did that even cross your mind?”

Lauren tensed and fixed the wolf with a burning stare.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m not convinced Bo’s interests are your primary concern.”

She wished that she had the energy to be angry just then.  “I didn’t put Bo up to risking her life, making a spectacle of herself.  If I could stop it, I would,” she said in the calmest, most sincere tone she could conjure.   

Dyson considered her silently for a long moment.  Whatever internal test he was subjecting her to, she must have passed, because he finally nodded and refilled his cup. 

Swallowing every last fragment of pride she had, she asked one last question.  “Will you be there with her?”

“I’m always with her.” 

Lauren finished her coffee and exited the shack.  There was really nothing more to be said. 

Dyson finished off the carafe and refilled it, listening intently.  Bo was describing the taste of the Valkyrie, syrupy, biting, and harder than everclear.  She sounded drunk and angry.  Good, he thought, strong emotion would help her survive.  The water noises of the shower drowned out the rest as she calmed down enough to lower her voice. 

He pulled out his cell phone and punched the speed dial for Trick.  Voicemail. 

“Call me.  Actually, scratch that, I’ll be at the Dál in half an hour.  I have new info.  The Black Thorn is using the Hunt to kill Bo,” he paused while true panic lit through for the first time since regaining his love, savoring his ability to feel, scared out of his mind, “and then bring her back.”

Two days later, Light fae security detail came for Bo, and Lauren started packing. 

Humans weren’t allowed at the Gala, even though Kenzi made a colorful, if not very convincing case for inclusion.  The festivities took place the evening before the Hunt, a bacchic display disguised by white ties and intrigue, much finery and backstabbing. 

Hale inserted himself into the drama again, much to his parent’s delight.  The siren’s lineage practically guaranteed his candidacy.  The three of them – Bo, Dyson, and Hale – together in the forest might actually stand a chance at defending against the other two contenders until Bo reached the bell, made her statement, and secured her freedom for a bit longer.  Until the next challenge. 

That night, Bo was housed in an isolated holding chamber beneath the Ash’s compound, a dungeon with which Lauren was intimately familiar.  It was child’s play to grab her access keys from her soon-to-be former office after hours, as well as the two remaining vials of Bo’s blood, sealed with vampire anticoagulant, before stepping through the sliding glass doors a final time. 

The lighting was dim in the long hallway past the first room of cells, creating shadows that followed her over the chipped paint of what were once white walls.  The lack of guards, cameras, or other obvious surveillance concerned her, but it was entirely possible that invisible creatures had monitored her movements in the compound every day for the last five years, the thought of which made her skin crawl.  Fully expecting to be stopped at any moment, she straightened her shoulders and continued through the next winding passage.  Lauren refused to be ashamed of this – her last night with Bo. 

Indeed, her last few hours in the world of the fae. 

She finally found the correct iron access gate at the end of a tributary hall off the lower corridor and down three flights of stone stairs.  This part of the dungeon was older than the upper floors, no electric admission or sliding bar doors, just a sheet of metal on hinges set in natural bedrock.  Her digital access key was of no use here.  She could hear someone pacing inside, high heels making muffled clicks on the floor. 

Lauren pulled another key from her pocket.  The copper grooves ground against the aged lock with a rattle.  The footsteps stopped.  She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

 Bo was still in formal wear, draped in lengths of dark silk and covered in jewels, looking ridiculously out of place in the windowless room, empty but for a bed set along one wall and a latrine opposite.  Bare shoulders and the glimpse of a slit in the side seam distracted Lauren, her suddenly unsteady hands fumbling to extract the key from the lock.   

 “You came,” Bo flashed her a brilliant smile, which faltered slightly when the doctor didn’t immediately respond.  “Don’t look so surprised.  Who else were you expecting?”   

“Sorry, I...my God, Bo, you’re gorgeous.” 

“You like?” she said in a low voice that resonated in the small space, and did a slow turn.  The gown rippled to the floor in delicate folds, clinging in all the right places.  Lauren felt her throat go dry. 

The heavy door slipped shut with a quiet thud.  Bo didn’t advance on her immediately, just stood there awkwardly in her expensive dress, hesitant and conflicted and sexy.   

“How did you snag a key?”

Lauren swallowed hard and looked away.  “It’s mine.  The old Ash knew that I would never leave, that I needed the fae a hell of a lot more than they needed me.  But now that Nadia’s…well, let’s just say that the leverage isn’t the same.” 

She heard Bo clear her throat.  Lauren hated that Bo still felt guilty about Nadia, almost as much as she hated herself for still blaming her. 

“The party’s still going strong upstairs.  Kenzi and Hale hacked the camera feeds around your apartment.  They’re set to loop the same thirty seconds of empty hallway until noon tomorrow, just to be safe. 

“It isn’t much, obviously” she gestured to their surroundings, “But you could stay--” 

“Bo.” 

Lauren interrupted because she didn’t want to hear the invitation amended with ‘for tonight,’ or ‘until they come for me.’  She couldn’t face the reality of walking out that door just yet, of walking away from Bo and this world forever when she wasn’t sure that she truly wanted to leave. 

“Yes?”

There wasn’t enough time for all that.  And they were wasting what little they had. 

 “Shut up.”

It was desperate, fast, and the bed was really only made for one.

Everywhere Bo touched felt like electricity licking across Lauren's nerve endings, and her muscles clenched in anticipation.  A thigh slid between her own, and she sighed, luxuriating in the feel of smooth skin as the succubus stretched and settled to lie pressed against her. 

She imagined she saw magic glow between Bo's fingers as they traced down her body.  She certainly felt it, a storm of micro impulses that made her heart flutter and her hands shake. 

“Why did you stay?”  The question was whispered into her hair. 

“Well, there’s the five year resume gap that I can’t possibly explain.”  She tried for sarcasm, but the tone was all wrong.

 “No, really.”

“Bo,” Lauren sighed, “You know why.” 

She felt Bo tense and go unnaturally still.  When she spoke, her voice was dark and low, edgy.  “After everything, after Nadia, I don’t expect anything from you.  I don’t expect you to love me.”

Lauren framed her face in her hands, drawn to that vicious blue gaze, unguarded and hungry.  “I know,” she raised herself to kiss Bo’s lower lip and felt it quiver, “But I can’t help it.” 

It wasn’t enough and she wished that she could just say the words.  Instead, she rolled her hips and kissed Bo again, coaxing her gently back to the present, making the most of those last quiet moments. 

Her breath hitched, rushed out, and Lauren felt a pull from the center of her being, her very soul expanding to meet Bo’s need in raw, agonizing heat.  In no way a true feed, it was just a sip, a taste.  She grasped her lover’s hand and laced their fingers, anchoring herself.  Corposant discharge ionized the air molecules in the space between them, creating a radiant, starry blue energy that flowed from her to Bo.  It was a brief, intense connection, heady and perfect.  

Lauren left a few hours before dawn.  As she redressed, she tossed her small copper key onto the bed near the succubus.  Even in the dim light, Bo’s skin fairly glowed with a healthy flush.

“Keep it.  In case you change your mind.”  She said hopefully, even though she knew better. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

As she navigated the long twisting halls and vaulted chambers a second time, it crossed her mind that had she left immediately she could have been half-way to the border already.  She decided she didn’t care.   


End file.
